The Cat Who Floats By Himself
by BushRat8
Summary: It's not easy being a floating blue cat with the ability to evaporate. With apologies to Rudyard Kipling. One-shot.
A/N: The title and repeated line, as I'm sure you all know, is a slight twist on Rudyard Kipling's "The Cat Who Walked By Himself," from the Just-So Stories. It's a brilliant little work that my father used to read to me when I was a child (he read all the other Just-So Stories, too, complete with with dramatic delivery and sound effects).

No disrespect to Mr. Kipling intended ;-) Only the one line is borrowed, and his stories are, incidentally, in the public domain.

There are occasional shifts from past- to present-tense which are intentional.

-oOo-

The Cat Who Floats By Himself

-oOo-

I was an exceedingly young kitten when I first learned to float and whisk myself away from Mama Puss and my litter-mates. It was a grand talent — one which no one in my family had displayed for more than a hundred years — and as many grand talents do, it caused no end of consternation and trouble. When breakfast was served, the blue ball of fluff that should have been glued to Mama's side was nowhere to be found; preferring, instead, to be surveying the world from the treetops. During mousing lessons, I had no need to skitter along the ground on clumsy feet, but instead, pounced from above, like an arrow shot at a target. And while Mama Puss was uneasily proud of this throwback ability, she and my siblings couldn't help but draw away over time.

They feared me. I knew that. And since I could not change what I was, nor had I any desire to, I floated away, leaving my family behind. I made my mind up: I would be a Cat who floats by himself. Whether in Witzend or without or anywhere else, for that matter, all places would be alike to me. In other words, I told myself: I couldn't care less.

There was another who followed me out of Witzend: Crazy Tarrant, who had so much creative talent in his hands and so little sense in his copper-tressed head. I liked him a lot. He made me smile so widely that I showed every one of my sharp, sharp teeth, and he never complained when I turned figure-8s 'round his ankles, leaving blue hair on his trousers. Like as not, he probably figured that the blue was an improvement. He did, however, take exception to my floating around his head and trying to snatch away his hat.

All the ruckus and flapdoodle he kicked up about it made me grin and show all my teeth again. _Really, Mr. Hightopp,_ I thought. _Some men think it's about the size of their noses or their feet. For you, it's that enormous hat. No wonder you don't want me to touch it._

It was while warming myself at Tarrant's hearth one evening that I discovered my ability to vanish and reappear. A log fell down, a flame licked out… and if I hadn't instantly evaporated, the smell of burning cat hair would still be permeating every corner of the room. _Well, this is new,_ I said to myself. _I didn't know I could do that. Will my talents never cease?_

Upon observing this, Tarrant drew back, frowning, his eyes taking on a tinge of frightened hazel. A floating cat was just fine by him, but one who could vanish and sneak up on him unseen…? "I think it's time for you to find another hearth," he said.

"Why? I like this one."

"So might a lady. And I don't want an invisible cat scaring her away if she and I are…" He delicately raised one of his definitely-not-delicate eyebrows.

Now, cats don't have eyebrows as humans understand them, but if I had… ehh, who am I kidding? I know men, and this wouldn't have surprised me enough to make me raise them. Believe me, I have exactly zero interest in being witness to human sex. Even so, "You've never spoken of ladies before," I said curiously. "Who did you meet?"

Tarrant didn't answer, but a further look at him, and my senses told me that, however much he wanted to, he hadn't met anyone and just didn't want me to know it. I don't know why he doesn't just go find a fence to perch on and have a good yowl. It always works; we cats can tell you that.

"Come on, you don't really want me to go," I soft-soaped him, making to float up onto his lap.

But something's frightened him and he's determined. "Yes. You can stay here until morning, then out you go."

So once again, I'm on my own: a Cat who floats by himself, telling myself that all places are alike to me.

-oOo-

-oOo-

Next stop was the grand palace of Mirana, the White Queen, said to be friend to all animals. It's a lovely place, and my beautiful blue fur and green eyes looked stunning with all that shining white alabaster. No one so much as shrugged at my floating and evaporation capabilities, and there was no talk about my possibly frightening a undressed lady with an unexpected appearance. But although I was given a welcome, a hearth, an occasional scratch on the ear, and as much as I could eat and drink… there's no other word for it: it was boring.

It was too clean, too polite. After a short sojourn to think over my options, it was time for me to leave.

It was time for me to become, truly and unapologetically, a Cat who floats by himself. I would pop in and out wherever I wanted to, and all places would be alike to me.

-oOo-

-oOo-

Tarrant was giving one of his innumerable tea parties, complete with oodles of luscious clotted cream, when I floated in and took a place at the end of the table. "Afternoon," I said, settling in and staring at the Dormouse, who nervously retreated into a teapot to escape the sight of all my teeth. I don't know why Mally bothered, as I think she'd be much too tough and stringy to eat.

Tarrant grinned his gap-toothed smile and passed down a cup of milky tea and a cream-dipped biscuit. "Chessur," he said. "Where've you been?"

"You kicked me out, remember?"

"That was a long time ago, and I never said you couldn't come and visit."

What a chance to play with him. "I didn't dare. What if I showed up and scared a lady?"

Poor Tarrant, so easy to read, his pale face suddenly flushed in embarrassment: no lady yet, no matter how much he wished it. Even I've been doing better than him on that account; remember what I said about the fence? "Well, you needn't get personal about it," he began.

"Now, now, boys," Thackery chirped as he looked at us through a hole he'd bitten in his bread and butter. "Let's keep it polite, polite, polite."

I felt a grin wrap three times around my face. "Let's not. I've just come from Marmoreal, a land of excruciating politeness…"

A hurled teacup hit me in the head: Tarrant, whom I should have remembered was dearly loved by Mirana (too bad he couldn't get _her_ on the fence!). "Out!" he snapped, marmalade-eyed. "Now! And don't come back until you've learned some manners!"

 _I really must speed up my vanishing reflexes to avoid flying crockery,_ I thought, rubbing a paw along the lump on my head. "Well, that was uncalled for," I yawned, "but if you insist…"

"I do! Get out!"

I was nothing if not graceful in retreat (did you forget I'm a cat?), and so I floated off to find yet another place that would be like all others to me.

-oOo-

-oOo-

Things changed very quickly after that, with Darkness coming to the land. I hid myself away as best I could, and I know Tarrant blamed me for not stepping forth to play the hero. It was terrible, that day he lost his family, and I say that with no snideness or intent to mock. In a way, we're alike, for I, too, lost mine when my differences made them afraid of me.

Crazy Tarrant who was charming and talented became simply Crazy, just as I, Chessur, have become little more than my smile.

Still, I float on, appearing and disappearing at will and wherever I wish, honing my evaporating skills because one day, perhaps, they will help the darkness to vanish.

But I miss my old friends. I miss Tarrant's hearth. I even miss the dreadful courtly politeness of Marmoreal. All place are _not_ alike.

Yes. I am the Cat who floats by himself… but sometimes, I wish I didn't have to.

-oOo-

FIN

-oOo-


End file.
